


JAQ / 00Q Kinktober

by HighQueen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: (As in - a sexee doesn't know that they're being watched. It will be addressed. Eventually)., 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Choking, Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, Dub-con Voyeurism, Frottage, Guns (not involved in the sex but like... coinciding), Hair-pulling, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Lingerie, M/M, Now featuring counter-tops!, OT3, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Shushing, Spanking, harmless drunken manipulation by friends, thigh riding, which should be a fucking tag but I digress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighQueen/pseuds/HighQueen
Summary: Happy Kinktober! 30 days of my favorite OT3 (if I can keep to schedule).This will be a smutty escalation of Bond's x Q's x Alec's relationship. These will be less one-shot and more “progression of porn”, but each chapter should be able to stand alone if you're only interested in that particular kink. Heed the tags and the prompt will be on each chapter header.~mwah~
Relationships: James Bond/Q, James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan, Q/Alec Trevelyan
Comments: 35
Kudos: 125





	1. Prompt List

**Prompt List:**

  1. Thigh Riding - Bond x Q
  2. Blowjob - Alec x Q
  3. First Time - Bond x Q
  4. Public Sex - Alec x Q
  5. Daddy Kink - Bond x Q
  6. Choking/ Spanking - Alec x Q
  7. Sixty-Nine - Bond x Q
  8. Lingerie - Alec x Q
  9. Size Difference - Bond x Q; Alec x Q
  10. Dirty Talk - Alec x Q
  11. In the Kitchen - Bond x Q
  12. Voyeurism - Alec walking in on Bond x Q
  13. In the shower/tub - Bond x Q
  14. Toys - Alec x Q
  15. Somnophilia - Bond x Q
  16. Restraints - Spreader Bar - Alec x Q
  17. Blindfolded - Bond x Q
  18. Fingering/ Forced Orgasm - Bond x Q
  19. Edging - Alec x Q
  20. Objectification _-_ Alec x Q
  21. Praise Kink - Bond x Q
  22. Caught Masturbating - Bond x Alec
  23. Handjob - Bond x Alec
  24. Cream Pie- Bond x Q
  25. Eating Out - Alec x Q
  26. Threesome - JAQ
  27. Wax Play _-_ Bond x Q (Alec watching)
  28. Begging - JAQ
  29. Phone Sex - JAQ
  30. Overstimulation - Biting/Scratching - JAQ
  31. Exhibitionism - JAQ




	2. Bond x Q: Thigh Riding

Q is aware of what everyone says about Bond. 007. He is a womanizer, flirt, love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of man. Despite how much he appears to be a gentleman. Q supposes the appearance of one didn’t in any way exclude the behaviors of the other. 

It is what everyone didn’t say that leads to Q being wrong-footed when faced with the man for the first time as his Quartermaster. 

Due to M’s paranoia, she insisted that every Double-Oh first meeting happened in her office. This is how Q found himself sitting in the only comfortable visitors chair as he reads over the post-op mission brief on his tablet. Bond walks in without even knocking on the doorframe. Q adds rude to the personality list.

“007, meet Q. Q, 007”. M speaks first as Bond prowls closer. His gaze sharpens as he inspects Q with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable; if Q hadn’t just met 002 for the first time hours prior. 

Q looks up from his tablet to catch the stare head-on and uncrosses his legs to stand. “007. Welcome home. R reported that Positano went well, aside from the owner-operated kiosks De Lucas’ men plowed into. Well done.” Q extends the hand without technology for a handshake. 

Bond returns it briskly enough, his eyes crinkling at the corners like he’s sharing a secret joke. “You can call me Bond. James Bond.” He might have been expecting a birth name in answer. Q doesn’’t give it, even as Bond’s fingers slip oh-so-innocently across Q’s wrist before he lets the handshake fall. Well then. That is new information. Q blinks as he retracts his hand. 

M missed the incident and continues the introduction. “Major Boothroyd has decided after decades of service that he has had enough of you Double-Ohs and took his much-deserved retirement. Q has 12 years of service and has led countless missions over the years. His security and remote retrieval is impeccable.”

Bond smoothly puts a hand in his pocket as he shifts his bodyweight just-so. Contrapposto. “Oh? So you will be the one whispering sweet nothings in my ear?” He asks cheekily in Q’s direction.

Q keeps from rolling his eyes. It isn’t professional. “I believe you have mistaken me for one of your marks, 007. When I ask for you to do something, it won’t be a whisper.” 

Bond barks a laugh at the response.

M cuts her eyes up sharply but in the end refrains from saying anything further besides, “Introductions are over, you both may leave.”

Bond and Q both head for the door and past Moneypenny’s unoccupied desk. The walk past the first branch-off is companionably silent. 

Steps in front of the second, Q speaks up, “If any of my tech survived the mission, I could be relieving you of it now and save you the trip to Q branch.” 

Bond’s expression alone tells Q the answer. Without M’s presence, Q gives into the impulse to roll his eyes like a teenager. “I’ll bid you farewell here, then. Please do give Minnie my regards.” Minnie is Q’s favorite Medical Branch nurse; brutally efficient and without any false cheer. She’s the nurse Doctor Reed sets upon the Double Ohs. 

“Do you even know how to get to Q-branch from here? You won’t get lost, will you?” Bond asks with faux concern. Q can’t decide if Bond is attempting to belittle Q’s age or his intellect. Either way, Bond is purposefully trying to get a rise out of his new handler - a test run. 

“How very paternal of you.” Q quips back. “Will you ask me to hold your hand while you lead me to my desk like a good little boy?”

Bond’s carefree smile turns wolfish at the same time Q realizes the fatal omittance from all of the reports he’d been given: They all called Bond a womanizer. But that didn’t exclude him from being a maneater. Without a by-your-leave, Bond confidently takes hold of Q’s hand and leads him down the hall. 

They end up in an abandoned office - good luck for the poor sod that had the place before, as it feels noticeably warmer than the hall outside. They must be near a furnace. 

Q very carefully puts his tablet aside on the empty desk, head cocked and gaze flicking over Bond’s body language. Receptive, but that didn’t exclude deceptive. “I would claim ignorance over why you have led me here, but ignorance isn’t in my nature. I suppose the next question is what you hope to accomplish, besides orgasms, of course.” 

“Of course,” Bond murmurs as he prowls closer, purposefully licking his lips so he can smirk as he notices Q’s eyes dilating wide. Well, two can play at that game.

Q leans coyly on the far wall, one foot against the wall cocking his knee at an enticing angle, pushing his pelvis out before companionably crossing his arms. “Well? Let me start, shall I? M is aware of my orientation and actively encourages me to pursue like-minded MI6 employees as opposed to those outside of the organization. None of my… personal exploits… will be held against my professional record. So this,” Q flicks a loosely pointed finger between himself and Bond, “will be reported. By me. She’ll be thrilled that I’m following protocol.” 

That actually has Bond pausing a few steps away from Q, his eyes jerking up from where they had been assessing Q’s hips. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Q responds. “Oh, I’m sure she will disapprove and scold you in her office like a naghty schoolboy for not keeping it in your pants - again. I, however, am but following her orders. Besides, if pressed to keep only one of us, she would choose to keep me. . .” Q rolls his body to push himself off the wall to take the last few steps into Bond’s space, maintaining eye-contact with that ice-blue stare; smirking. “Between the two of us, I’ve proven to be the more dangerous in bed, you see.”

His smirk is kissed off his face as Bond presses forward those last few inches. Q gladly gives him control; he knew it would be worth the submission and is quickly proven correct. There is nothing exploratory about it; deep and wet with an expert tongue licking a pattern across the roof of his mouth. Oh, that tongue would feel marvelous against his cock. 

Q groans and takes Bond’s lapels in his hands, not-so-gently pulling Bond back with him until he meets the wall. At the same time that his back meets the wall, he presses his hips into Bond’s; a testing, rhythmic roll. The kiss is released in order to breathe, teeth scraping against Q’s bottom lip. Hooded eyes meet. 

Q takes control of this next one, deceivingly light kitten licks until Bond opens up are followed by a sharp nip to Bond’s upper lip. Bond makes a surprised noise deep in his throat that just makes Q hotter. He’s pressed more tightly against the wall and the thigh that slips between his legs is a welcome progression of events. 

The initiative is rewarded. Q’s hands travel - one up to clasp lightly at Bond’s nape to bring him that much closer; the other slipping down Bond’s chest and stomach, pulling Bonds shirt out of his trousers just enough so skin can meet skin as Q’s hand continues around until it reaches the small of Bond’s back. Q starts working a rhythm that brings his awakening dick into rolling contact with Bond’s thigh and pelvic crease. No matter the layer of clothing between them, it was still a pressure that promised delicious release. Bond’s own erection ruts against Q’s hip bone with controlled violence.

Q tests a hypothesis by scratching lightly at Bond’s back and is answered with a growl as Bond breaks the kiss and begins walking his lips and teeth down Q’s neck. Perfect. Of course he was bloody perfect. Q’s breath and hips hitch in sync as Bond gets to that spot behind his ear. Q’s exterior leg leaves the ground altogether so he can press even more of himself against the agent that keeps him locked against the wall. Bond uses the wall to stabilize his knee, angling his hip just right so that the engaged muscles of his thighs feel divine against Q’s perineum. 

Q moans, pleased, and tries to tangle his hand into Bond’s hair. Bond only tsks before taking the hand within his own to press it against the wall near their heads. Q moans, this one approvingly, and ruts harder. His other hand presses itself further up Bond’s back, closer to his shoulder blades. 

The both of them are rubbing against each other enthusiastically enough that Q feels the exact moment the head of his cock slips past both his pants and his slacks to peek out and pressing against Bond’s bare skin, slick and hot. (It should say something about his acquired eating habits that he’s lost enough weight for his trousers to be so loose.) Q can only moan like a wanton whore as he tries to press closer. 

Bond resists, trying to step back, “Wait a moment. Let me.” He tries to slip a hand between them to undo his bespoke trousers - to set them at the same level of indecency. Q won’t have it. He has no choice but to use his trapped thigh and his own weight to hook and twist. In seconds, he has Bond pressed against the wall so that he can continue his ride. (Later, he will be proud that he didn’t even have to set his other foot down. His training with 004 was finally paying off.) RIght now, he is just focused on hitting… that… spot… right… there.

“I guess I did forget to tell you,” Q gasps into Bond’s shoulder, his free hand clawing into Bond’s bare side as he keeps rutting against Bond’s pelvic crease and abs, particularly enjoying the dip of his naval. He stretches his neck to bite gently above Bond’s collar and further still to whisper in his ear. “You're not coming unless it's in your pants. You haven’t gotten your test results since your latest romp in Italy.” 

Bond snarls and grips Q’s still- captured hand hard enough to bruise. Check, Q thinks before Q bites again in reproof. The hand that latches onto his nape to give him a shake makes him throw back his head a moment later to hiss, “Yess…” 

Bond’s lips tackle his own once more, licking and biting. His frustration is evident in every movement, but he doesn’t try removing his trousers again. That deserves another reward.

“Come on, 007. Put your back into it,” Q orders and jerks his hips.

Bond actually laughs before reversing their positions, twisting Q into the wall much harder than Q had moments before, head cushioned only by the hand at his nape. Q traps the keen in his throat, but by the unholy light in Bond’s eyes, it didn’t go unheard. Q’s other hand is taken in Bond’s grip and pressed just as harshly against the wall. Eyes keep contact as Bond presses his whole body close, a sinuous twist of both his thigh and stomach making his abs slide just right against the underside of Q’s cock. Checkmate, Q smirks through his nearly- silent orgasm, white-hot and exhilarating. 

When he comes back to himself, he is still pressed into the wall, a combination of aftershocks and Bond’s unfulfilled desire keeping their hips at a jerking, listless rhythm. At some point, Bond had let go of his hands to lean his elbows more firmly into the wall to increase the friction. Q’s come is cooling unpleasantly where he had released against Bond’s stomach, but Q didn’t complain. He merely scooted his hip bone in a more optimal position and took a handful each of Bond’s arse, making sure his nails could be felt against the fabric as he pressed back against Bond’s erection. 

“Oh, that was absolutely lovely.” He didn’t have to try hard to emphasize the admiration and satisfaction in his voice. “Will you come for me? Please? Oh, please?” He injects just a hint of whine, wiggling in place and pulling Bonds head back just enough to see his expression as he came - eyes closed, jaw clenched, holding down a grunt in his throat. Just Lovely. 

He closes his eyes to better take in the weight of Bond against him, the scent of sex, the thrum of his blood in his veins. God, he had needed that. 

Once they get their breath back, Q is the first to begin pulling away by shuffling sideways across the wall. Bond shifts his weight slightly to the side, allowing the movement but not moving himself. Q tucks his slightly-sticky cock back into his pants and trousers and rubs his stained fingertips against Bond’s shirt-tails without shame. Bond scoffs in amusement. 

“I admit, I still don’t see how this makes you more dangerous than me in bed.”

“You still haven’t seen me in bed,” Q quips while he straightens first his cardinagan, then his not-nearly distressed enough curls. Bond’s chuckle rolls through the room and Q doesn’t bother repressing his satisfied shiver. Next time, Q promises himself, his curls would be getting more attention. But that is for later. 

Q checks his watch before he steps up close to Bond one last time, his long fingers slipping across one of Bond’s slack wrists in a mirroring pattern from earlier that day. They share eye-contact and the laugh-lines around Bond’s eyes crease. “It was a pleasure meeting you today, 007. Please debrief with Medical before you go home.” He means the pun, and Bond’s huff confirms that it wasn’t missed. Q smirks but turns away to collect his tablet. “My subordinates require my attention before 002’s next check-in.” He gives one last wave behind himself before opening the door without a further by-your-leave. 

It’s not running away. It’s a strategic retreat. Q knows he won this round. So why does he have the sinking feeling that he’s only started a war?


	3. Alec x Q: Blowjobs

Eve had to drag Q out of Q branch kicking and screaming not even an hour ago. But now that Q is here, with a few fruity cocktails coasting through his veins and the electronic beat pulsing in his chest, he can admit that Eve is his favorite. 

He grins over his drink at her to yell so as to be heard over the club music, “You’re my favorite!”

Eve laughs and tips his drink towards his face and into his mouth using her agent ninja-moves. “I know!” She shouts back and slams the glass full of colourful ice (the remains of his drink) on the bartop she had threatened to murder a fratboy for when they had first arrived. She abandons the position like she abandons anything that loses her attention; with a sharp about-face and bouncing curls. She drags Q with her into the throng of dancing bodies. 

At the start of a new beat, she spins him around like a top exactly once before plastering herself against his back, leading their hips into some abso-fucking-lutely dirty grinding. Despite her lacking the anatomy he’s attracted to, she still makes him groan. “I don’t suppose you enjoy pegging!?” Q asks loudly in her closest ear. 

She grins and cackles. “No comment, Q. We’re not here for me! We’re here to get you laid!” The music swells and they continue to grind and sway. 

Q opens his mouth to respon -- Eve cuts him off. “Bond doesn’t count; you didn’t even get to see his cock! And besides, that was nearly nearly a month ago!” 

Q frowns. Had it really been that long? He counts missions with his fingers held in front of him, ticking them off to the beat while Eve watches with fondness over his shoulder, hands wrapping fully around his waist. Okay, she has a point. He waives his hands forward while resting the majority of his weight against her. “Carry on then! Get me laid!” 

Of course the song changes to something lower at the last sentence, making the couples around them look up in amusement. Eve laughs and wags her eyebrows at them. “Well? Any takers for this leggy boffin?!” She spins him around to the beat once more. He’s given some appraising looks that get his blood pulsing in a different kind of beat than the music. But in the end, Eve moves them slightly to their 3’oclock when a man doesn’t step forward. 

She spins Q to face her, subtly framing his arse with her hands to those that are looking while they continue to dance. Q gets so lost in the music that he almost doesn’t realize when she fumbles a grind. 

“Is that. . .” Eve starts. Q gracefully spins to put his back to her again, throwing a hand up behind him and into her curls for no good reason except they feel nice. He flicks his glance to the wall she was watching and hums long and low in his throat at the eyefull of blond agent he finds. 

“It is indeed, Miss Moneypenny,” He murmurs his response so that the agent can’t read his lips - lips he is certainly looking at. Q licks the edges of his teeth, mouth open to make sure the entire show is visible. The man’s eyes darken considerably. Q shivers. 

“How? Was his mission finally completed?” Eve mutters into his neck. 

Q rolls his shoulders and hips in a shrug that just happens to match the music, taking his own weight back, subtly loosening her hold on him. “Very possible. I haven’t been monitoring. I do know he hasn’t reported in yet. But, let's get back on topic; I thought we were focused on getting me laid.” He makes sure to enunciate his mouth for that part. The blond begins moving forward through the dance floor. Q preens.

He hears Eve draw in breath to say something. Q spins around quickly, putting a little more space between them as he presses a finger against her lips. “Hush. Let me enjoy this.” He looks back over his shoulder at the blond slowly approaching and licks his lips, wiggles his hips in a little shimmy to the music. 

Moneypenny rolls her eyes. “You and your thing about blonds. Use protection. Call me when you get home.” She cuts one last glance towards the impressive figure only a few steps away now. “And give me the details in the morning!” She shouts, most definitely too loud and without shame as she backs away and gives one little sarcastic salute to the approaching man as she makes her way out of the club. 

The man slides up behind Q, pressing their forms together, knees to shoulders, hands loose at Q’s hips. . . for now. He leads them into a grind even more delicious than Eve’s had been. But that was probably Q’s bias, since this one had a half-hard cock sliding against his arse. He didn’t bother stopping his groan or the thump of his head on the man’s shoulder. 

“Poor kitten,” the man murmurs roughly in his ear. “You just need something fierce, don’t you?” 

Q nods his head against the blonds shoulder. The music picks up again into something hard and throbbing. “I’m Quincy!” Q throws out an alias and mocks a handshake by slipping his hand over the hand on his hips, fingers tangling. 

“Alex!” The agent responds. Q nods and turns in Trevelyan’s grip. The alias is enough to the agent's real name. Undoubtedly better than Bond’s habit of giving out his real name to everyone and their mother. The Quartermaster and Double-Oh hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting in a formal setting, since 006’s missions normally took him away from England for months at a time. However, Q had the advantage of viewing all of the agents' dossiers. 

Q briefly thinks this could be an ambush, but quickly dismisses the thought. This club was close to MI6, so it would be a familiar stalking ground for any agent. He smiles through his lashes at the man and leans in close, pressing his face against his throat as if he really were a kitten. “Will you take me home?” 

Trevelyan’s hand comes up to grip his nape. It makes Q shiver as he brushes his mouth against Q’s earlobe. “I’m not the kind of man that takes strays home. You okay with that?” 

Q moaned and rolls his hips into the man in a show of just how much he was okay with that. Besides, he wasn’t keen to bring a Double-Oh to his apartment and he was certain that the said Double-Oh wouldn’t want a stranger anywhere near his. His head was pulled back by that firm grip so that they could meet eyes. Oh, Trevelyan wanted verbal communication. Q pouts, “This means fucking is off the table, which is such a shame.” He rolls his hips again. “But find us somewhere private and I’m sure we can come to a compromise.” 

Trevelyan chuckles and begins leading Q to the same wall that he had been leaning against earlier. The wall led to a hidden hall, where the sounds of the music became considerably muted. At the end of the hall was an emergency door that was propped open with a pack of cigarettes. Q raises his eyebrows at Trevelyan. Trevelyan chuckles and shrugs, “I’ve been here a time or two. This is the door the bouncers use to take their smoke break.” 

“I said private and you lead me to a hallway that the bouncers use so I can suck your cock? Are you making sure I can never come back?” Q asks incredulously.

“Well, we never agreed to you sucking my cock, but I wouldn’t be opposed, Kitten.” Trevelyan returns his grip to the back of Q’s nape and squeezes as he leans against the wall. “Besides, they aren’t out there now, or the door would be propped open with the brick just outside.” 

Q rolls his eyes but licks his lips and steps closer as Trevelyan’s hand directs. “You best have a marvelous cock or I’m walking out that door and taking the cigarettes with me.” He palms Trevelyan’s cock through the fabric of his jeans and squeezes as he keeps eye-contact. “My pace, condom not optional. But you can pull my hair all you want. In fact, please do.” Trevelyan twists his hand for a quick tug that makes Q’s breath catch, eyes flutter, and smirk. “And if you don’t reciprocate I’ll find out your real name and ruin your credit rating.” 

Before Trevelyan can retort, Q drops to his knees and begins unbuckling the belt that is in his way, pressing his cheek against the bulge that’s doing it’s best to greet him. Trevelyan’s hand in his hair tightens, gently pulls, twists. Q makes happy noise and pulls Trevelyan out of his pants. His cock is long but not overtly girthy, still hooded in it’s foreskin and nested in neat dark blond curls. Yes, this will do quite nicely. Too bad he couldn’t play with the foreskin more fully. He economically pulls out one of the condoms Eve had slipped into his back pocket earlier and rolls it down the length. 

Q looks up to make eye-contact through his glasses - Trevelyan looks patient and amused- before going hard. He sucks the head of that cock into his mouth, tongue flicking back and forth rapidly across the head before slipping even deeper, one hand holding what he won’t put into his mouth just yet. The other hand slips further into Trevelyan’s pants to play with his balls and that place right behind them, finger prodding into Trevelyan’s perineum for added sensation. 

This wasn’t one of Q’s favorite things. It didn’t get him hot in the same way that a good fingering did; mainly because it wasn’t enough to turn his thoughts off. But he did enjoy the noises of a willing partner, the feeling of something so vulnerable handed over to him for control. He enjoyed how he had the opportunity to learn his partner - what he did and didn’t like and all the ways Q could use that knowledge later. 

Trevelyan loves the fingers at his perineum. He likes a tight grip at the head of his cock and only gentle motions around his balls. He doesn’t make noises as much as he throws words and curses around like confetti. 

“Fuck, kitten. Aren’t you just fierce, yeah? So damn good,” Trevelyan croons and twists his fingers in Qs hair again. Q hums and takes Trevelyan deeper for a few moments, swallowing against his gag-reflex to rest his lips against Trevelyan’s curls for another swallow, then another. “Shit, kitten, yes. Perfect. Can you…” Q pulled off just enough to press his tongue against Trevelyan’s frenulum, increasing his suction, before pushing himself back down and swallowing once the cock hit the back of his throat. “Yes… That.” Q hears his head thump against the wall and does the motions once more. Twice. 

Trevelyan barkes out a short shout before tugging harshly at Q’s hair, aborting a thrust as he comes. Q moans and gently pulls off Trevelyan's cock to press his forehead against Trevelyan’s hip - against his hand - just to test the hold in his curls. It was tight enough to make sparks sing down his neck and into his cock, making his panting not just about lack of breath due to the lightening-round blowjob. 

Trevelyan’s hand flexes to scritch his nails across Q’s nape, but otherwise didn’t attempt to move. That just wouldn’t do. Q stands quickly, slipping Trevelyan’s pants up enough so that the man wouldn’t trip as he swings him around and pushes him down to his knees. Q throws a leg over Trevelyan’s shoulder and tilts his hips out in obvious prompting. “Well? I’d really like not getting bounced out of this club. Get to it.” 

Trevelyan grins wolfishly and fishes one of his hands into Q’s back pocket for another condom as the other unbuttons Q's trousers in a - seriously impressive- show of dexterity. His dick is easily taken in hand and gloved before Trevelyan licks from root to tip with a flat tongue, showy and sloppy, before taking in the tip. 

Q hooks both hands on Trevelyan’s nape and rolls his hips imperiously. Trevelyan looks up and raises an eyebrow. “The terms were to my pace, if you remember.” Q’s smirk is ruined by a hard suck but the shivers going down his back make it hard to be too disgruntled. “Pick it up, Alex. Pretty please?” He says the last sentence as a moan - Trevelyan had already removed his hand from Q’s cock in order to take it to the hilt, bobbing and sucking messily and with no discernible rhythm. His hands swing from Q’s front to grab onto Q’s buttocks, angling them to get Q’s cock deeper and nearly dragging Q off the ground in the process. The heat of Trevelyan’s mouth was shocking, even through the condom. Q groans and slaps his hands against the wall for balance when his testing hip roll threatens to tip him over. Instead, he digs his foot more firmly into Trevelyan's back, pressing his hips further away from the wall and his cock further into Trevelyan’s mouth. 

Trevelyan takes his weight more fully, grip tightening on his arse and going down to the root once more. Q whimpers. Trevelyan chuckles at the noise and the vibration is what sets the molten heat in his groin loose. Q’s keen hitches twice through his orgasm, white-hot and fast. 

When Trevelyan pulls back from Q’s cock, his expression is cocky and amused. “Was that pace to your satisfaction, kitten?”

Q rolls his head back and forth across the wall lazily and giggles. “Very satisfactory, Alex. 10/10; would fuck again.”

Trevelyan pushes himself to his feet and goes to lean into Q’s space, but stops with a grimace and looks down. Q follows his look. Trevelyan’s jeans were still open, and his condom had come loose, creating a mess against Trevelyan’s skin and jeans. Q giggles again, feeling foolish but unable to stop it as the endorphins worked with the alcohol to make him feel so very good. He removes his own condom carefully, twisting it up and holding it out to the side of himself as he watches Trevelyan clean himself up. 

When Trevelyan looks back up, Q steps close enough to kiss the man on the cheek before sliding away. “Goodnight, Alex. Get home safely.”

~*~

The next morning, when Q is called to M’s office to meet another agent, Q masks his little smile and walks past the room that Bond took him to nearly a month ago. He walks past Moneypenny’s desk and winks at the woman as he knocks politely at M’s door, getting his order to “Come in.”

“006, Q. Q, 006,” M introduces curtly as soon as the door opens. 006 turns around from where he had been pretending to admire M’s art. The surprise doesn’t show on his face, but Q can see it flicker in his eyes as the agent stalks up. Before he can say anything, Q steps forward and offers his hand for a handshake. 

“Alec,” Q stresses the name. “Welcome home. It’s a pleasure to meet you professionally.”

M’s sharp gaze flicks between the two men before she huffs. Q can’t tell if it’s amusement or resignation. Probably a combination of both. “Introductions are over. Out of my office. Q, provide me with your report by end of day.” 

“Before or after I give it Miss Moneypenny, ma’am?” Q asks cheekily only for M to point at the door, discussion over.


	4. Bond x Q - First Time (between characters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to stop adding fluff if I want to keep cranking these out in time. (－‸ლ)

Q shouldn’t be surprised and he shouldn't be flattered. But he can admit to himself that he’s a bit of both when Bond comes to Q branch after a mission - all swagger and class - and invites Q to dinner. His minions are all aflutter - of course they are - and are quick to point out that he hasn’t seen the sun in 12 hours. Q checks his watch. It’s 21:00. He wouldn’t see the sun even if he did leave now. He gives R a look.

R just nods very seriously and ushers him out the door. He spends a moment thinking if he should give her a raise or threaten to fire her. 

The dinner goes well. Bond takes him to a quiet family restaurant and the first thing he does is pull a piece of folder paper from his suit jacket pocket and place it on the table. “As I remember from last time, you’re a fan of full-disclosure.”

Q takes the paper and opens it, a line of medical tests and results listed down the length. All negative. Q smirks and hands the paper back, “Well, I suppose I have time after dinner.”

The air is charged but they don’t rush. They talk about poetry, weapons, and cats. Q admits to having 2 cats of his own. Bond looks unfathomably pleased. Bond has been keeping his glass will-provided; he isn’t drunk but he is considerably looser than he was only an hour ago. He thinks, fuck it, and asks, “Woud you like to meet them?”

Bond legitimately freezes for a moment. “Are you sure that’s wise? I was going to offer a nice night at The Savoy.”

Q hums. “That does sound nice. However, I haven’t seen my cats in 14 hours and I can’t think of a single reason to hide my apartment from you.” He starts ticking off his fingers. “You’re one of my agents, I’m tempted enough to say I hope this is not the last time we…” He rolls his wrist looking for the word before giving up and continuing the list, “my only living attachments are cats, chances are you’ve already followed me home at least once, so you have at least an idea of where I live, and I do consider myself good enough at both my job and my pleasures to consider myself safe from any animosity. Add that to the fact that if you do injure me, M will reign the entirety of MI6 upon you.” Q shrugs. “I’m not that concerned about you knowing where I live.” 

~*~

They crash through the door to Q’s apartment, lips locked and wrapped up in each other, Q clawing at the back of Bond’s suit as he leads them through the door and living room, attempting through sheer will to get them to the bedroom. 

Of course, he’s tripped up by Gambit, enough that he should have been sent sprawling except for the quick reflexes of the Double-Oh. Q curses and with Bonds help, rights himself. Q glaces quickly around for Zugzwang, but he must be hiding from the commotion. 

“Well hullo,” Bond goes to his knees. For Q’s cat. Q needs a moment to recalibrate his life as Bond eagerly scratches along the black beast’s back and that one white spot above his tail. 

Q does not pout. “You have 2 minutes to cuddle the little monster before you start fucking me.” He crosses through the living room and into the bedroom, shedding clothes as he goes, unashamed. 

“You’re just the most dashing little fellow, aren’t you? Yes you are.” Q can hear Bond fawn over Gambit. “But I’ve to seduce your papa so he can allow me back. Yes I do. Mmm-hmm,” he cooes. 

Q does not melt. He doesn’t. You’re melting. Q crawls onto the bed and flops onto his back, watching the doorway. When Bond walks through and sees him naked, his eyes heat and he closes the door against Gambit. Good instincts. Otherwise the heathen would stare unnervingly from the dresser. Q wiggles against his pillows. “You’re supposed to be seducing me.”

Bond gins. “So I am.” He slowly removes his suit jacket, folding it precisely before draping it across the dresser at the foot of the bed. Next goes his tie. Then his cufflinks, which are stashed into his pants pockets. Q makes a noise in the back of his throat and reaches down to palm his cock. 

“You’re convincing me. Keep going.”

Bond chuckles and begins unbuttoning his shirt, slinking it off. Then his trousers and pants are shucked off at the same time, folded loosely and placed atop his suit. Q abscently wonders where his shoes went, but that doesn’t matter as Bond prowls closer to the bed, standing close enough to touch the duvet with his thighs as he looks upon Q.

Q gets that look at his cock that he didn’t get to have the first time. Bond must be a grower and not a shower, because as he watches, the cock in front of him is still filling out. Proportionately girthier than long, but still long enough to get the job done quite nicely. 

Q reaches out for him, and Bond starts the short crawl to rest above him, palms sliding across his pale skin, his valleys and swells. Q quivers, and smiles. “Fuck me.” 

Bond’s laugh sounds more like a growl as he drops to his elbows and nips at Q’s lips. “With pleasure.” They lose themselves in kissing for a while before Q gets impatient and begins wiggling away, reaching out to his nightstand to pull a bottle of lube and a condom from the top drawer and slaps both against Bond’s chest. 

Bond gets back to his knees and pops open the lube to spill it across his fingers, watching Q’s reactions the whole time. Q spreads his legs wider, opening himself up to the scrutiny. He reaches his hands up to his pillow to twist and pull on his own hair, excited and expectant. 

The first finger is questing; it circles and pushes gently at his entrance. At Q’s fussy sound, Bond presses it in fully and Q sighs in answer. “More,” Q demands. 

Bond responds with a short laugh and another finger, pushing and gliding and perfect. Q rolls his hips and bares down to feel the fingers twitch and scissor before crooking just there and …. Q moans, his heels planting themselves to keep him suspended just there, with the fingers pressing perfect against his prostate. “Yess…” 

Bond begins withdrawing his fingers and Q tenses, ready to argue to get those fingers back. But Bond is just removing them to add a third in a smooth slide all the way to the webbing. 

Q rolls his hips twice more, drilling the fingers into himself instead of waiting for Bond to do the moving. “Yes, yes. I’m ready. Come on.” 

Bond chuckles and bites into Q’s collarbone chidingly, but removes his fingers to get the condom on. Some additional lube, and he’s propping Q’s arse onto his own knees and situating his cock against Q’s entrance. Q stops rolling to make the aiming easier, and sighs in contentment as Bond slides in as one smooth glide. 

Bond settles himself more fully against Q’s body, his elbows propped by Q’s head as they share kisses and breath, waiting for Q to adjust. It doesn’t take long; Q wraps his legs around Bond’s hips, heels digging into Bonds thighs as he prompts Bond to thrust. 

And, oh, does Bond deliver. He pushes himself back onto his knees and grips Q’s hips. He uses full, rough thrusts that hit just where Q needs them. The noises he lets out are accidental and primal; little uh-uh-uhs that break into whines when Bond switches his rhythm to something just a little faster. 

Q can’t think; he’s getting to that space of need-need-need that feels overwhelming but also welcomed. He writhes and clutches onto Bond’s hips more fully with his legs. His hands are gripping, scraping, pulling - at his own scalp, at Bond’s arms and shoulders, at the bedding below him. He doesn’t… can he come like this, without Bond touching his cock? Does he want to try? He just wants to come. 

He wants to come. He doesn’t recognize the ragged sob that comes out of his mouth or the babbling that follows. “Let me come. Let me come.” 

Bond just shakes his head and states, “Not yet.” Q smacks a hand against Bond’s shoulder and reaches for his own cock.

Quick as a snake, Bond takes the offending hand and pins it next to Q’s head with his own bodyweight. “Patience,” he demands, pressing his face into the hollow of Q’s neck to nibble at the skin there. Worse, he slows his rhythm to a gentle roll; still hitting Q’s prostate, but with hardly any power.

Q cries in frustration and struggles some more, getting his other hand captured. He drums his heels into the bedding on either side of Bond’s calves and writhes to no relief before he goes limp. He’s suddenly so damn tired and he’s sweating and the sheets itch beneath him and he just wants to come. 

Bond smiles gently, so gently, something that transforms his entire face and deepens all of those laugh lines around his eyes. It punches the breath out of Q. And only then does Bond pick up his pace, firm and steady and Q feels so damn full. Every so often, Bond will hitch his hips just to grind his cock just right against Q’s prostate and Q can hear the filthy squelch of the lube now that he is no longer fighting. 

Q rolls his head back and forth across his pillow and tries to catch his breath through the hitching in his chest; through the feeling of his cock sliding through the hot and humid tunnel they’ve made of their bodies, the bump of Bond’s abs and navel; through the feeling of Bond’s cock sliding against his inner walls in a way he can’t quite predict, tapping and touching his prostate.

“Oh... oh… oh,” He sighs out softly and closes his eyes to feel everything. He feels, rather than hears, the rumble coming from Bond’s chest. 

“That’s it, Q. Come for me.” He grinds just there, both his cock and abs rubbing just right and oh… 

Q moans through his orgasm, fingers and muscles twitching gently but none holding tension for long. Bond stays still long enough for the flashes to clear from Q’s vision before he pushes up to see Q more fully, grinding his still-hard cock, question in his eyes. Q groans and throws his arm over his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. Come on.” He rolls his hips in encouragement but otherwise keeps himself pliant. 

“That was lovely, wonderful. Thank you,” Q clenches around Bond’s cock purposefully despite the lingering oversensitivity. Bond's breath becomes harder and hitches. Q clenches gently again and removes his arms from his eyes to watch Bond’s face. Their eyes meet and Q flutters his eyes closed again at a particularly rough thrust as Bond slips back on his elbows. “Yeah, can’t you feel it? I’m so fucked out, so..,” his voice croaks, “so loose. So good,” he croons in Bond’s ear, sliding his teeth across the lobe. 

Bond groans and his cock pulses, the last few pushes erratic and sloppy. Q finds the strength to card his hands into Bond’s hair and hums. A few silent moments later and Bond slips out of Q’s hole to the accompaniment of Gambit’s meow at the closed door. 

Q watches the fond grin spread across Bond’s face as he stands up and steps to the bathroom, cleaning himself and bringing a rag over to assist cleaning Q. Then Bond goes over, still completely naked, and opens the door for Gambit.


	5. Chapter 4 : Placeholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Sorry. I just wasn't feeling this prompt atm.

Placeholder until I get back to it.


	6. Chapter 5 : Also Placeholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes. I'm trash. Move along. Day 6 is here.

This will also be filled eventually. You honestly cannot be more upset at me than I am at myself. lol


	7. Alec x Q: Choking/Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I have 6-8 written. Working on 9 tonight.

After negotiation over take-out at Q’s desk in Q branch, Q is able to convince Alec into his apartment this time. Mainly by pointing out that he would not allow Alec to play any harder without being in a safe space. Alec had agreed.. 

Now, Alec is sitting on the couch, gently rubbing on Gambit as he waits on Q to move first.

Q walks up and straddles Alec’s thighs, taking his lips in a kiss that probably has too much teeth for polite company. But they aren’t in company, so it can be as filthy as they like. Alec certainly approves, if this hand that grips tightly against the crease of Q’s ass is any indication. Q moans and rolls his hips, lifting his thighs away from Alec’s cock to drag his own against Alec’s stomach. 

Alec tsks and slaps at Q’s ass chidingly. Q jerks and squeaks, breaking the kiss. He pants as he looks into Alec’s eyes - they’ve dilated nearly completely and something about the black ringed with only a sliver of blue makes Q shiver. Alec slowly smirks. “Oh, is that something my kitten likes? A firm hand?” He smacks his hand down again, in nearly the same exact place. Q makes a garbled noise in his throat, questioning but approving at the same time. Oh, yes. That could be fun. 

Q begins grinding in earnest, leaning down to take Alec’s mouth once more, licking in to stroke Alec’s teeth. Alec bites down on his tongue just enough to hurt and pulls Q away by the grip in his hair. “Nu-uh, kitten. I need a yes or no.” 

Q leans back to sit down on Alec’s knee to think before nodding quickly. “Yes, with provisions.”

Alec raises an eyebrow in question, keeping them still with his firm grip. 

“No means no; stop means stop; hand impact only; I’m not super interested in counting them or anything.” Q lists out.

Alec nods and rumbles out, “Good, kitten. Very good.” He presses his face into the crook of Q’s neck and shoulder, blows out a breath of air down into Q’s shirt collar to make goosebumps appear. “Is there anything else you’d like to explore with me this time?” 

Q wiggles around and thinks about it. Thinks about the favorite things from previous sexual encounters he’s had over the years. Little one-off things that got him hot but he’d never asked a different partner for just because it just wasn’t necessary. But sex wasn’t about being necessary; it was about feeling good. And now that he had access to semi-regular partners, he wanted to take advantage of that. Like the hair-pulling. Alec hadn’t once forgotten how much Q liked his hair pulled. 

After taking that time to think, Q nods and brings Alec’s hand to rest gently around his throat, the palm over collarbones, only his thumb and pointer finger actually on his throat. “I want to feel pressure here. Not a real choke,” he’s quick to point out, “But pressure, a lot of it. I want to be able to breathe, but to feel squeezed.” He cocks his head to check and see if Alec has any questions. 

“Hmm,” Alec presses with the palm of his hand on Q’s chest but keeps Q firm and stable with the other hand that was still resting on his nape. Just those two points of pressure, but Q felt surrounded. He wondered what it would feel like and a bed, with Alec over him, and felt his cock jump in his pants. “I think that can be arranged, Kitten. But why don’t we get your bottom all warmed up to the fun first, yeah?” 

Q nods, eyes glazed. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Alec scoops Q up under his thighs and hauls him forward enough to stand and toss Q gently back into the couch. He begins unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up to his elbows as he looks down at the hazy boffin. “Strip, then turn around over the back of the couch.”

Q does as asked, glad that he had left his insecurities behind in college as he presents himself to the agent fully for the first time. He turns around to face the back of the couch and sways his hips back and forth in the guise of getting his knees more comfortable on the cushions. Alec barks a laugh and lands a short, stinging blow to his right asscheak, making him jump in surprise. 

The sting soon mellows into a warm glow and Q rolls his hips experimentally, making the flesh of his ass move. Yeah, he likes that. He leans his chest more fully against the couch back and bends more into the curve of his back, making his ass look that much more tempting. The satisfied hum from Alec is enough to let him know that it is working. 

“No need for you to count if you don’t want to, kitten, but I’ll stop at 15 to check-in. If you tell me to stop, this stops. Ready?” Alec rubs warm, calloused palms down the small of his back, across his hips and ass, and up and down the backs of his thighs. 

Q nods. After a reprimanding pinch in the hollow of his hip, he squeaks, “Yes! Ready!”

At the first blow, something hot and unbearable sparks alight along the length of Q’s spine. “Yes,” he repeats himself, pressing his backside into the next blow. “Yes, please.” Alec gives him what he wants; Q’s back bows even further, fingers scraping and twisting in the couch cushions, throwing out half-vocalized nosies without any regard.

It’s so good. He kicks out blindly with his feet and Alec pins one arch down against the couch with his kneecap, coming in even closer as the next blow lands. Q squirms and begins throwing his head back just for one of Alec’s hands to pin him down by his nape. The pressure is just right, pressing his chest into the back of the couch enough that it’s a challenge to catch his breath. It’s heady, Q’s whole body feels alight with fire and sparks. He whines as Alec takes a handful of his heated flesh, pulling until his thighs are spread further apart, purposefully rubbing his rough calluses against the worst of the red welts lined on Q’s buttocks. 

Q humps his cock against the back of the couch uselessly, and Alec must think he’s trying to get away. “Good?” the agent pauses and asks, without letting up the pressure. 

“Good! God, good! Please!” Q keeps rutting his cock against the couch as Alec chuckles and begins again by slapping at the insides of Q’s thighs. It makes Q yelp and squirm, thighs quivering and eyes watering traitorously. 

“Aww, kitten,” Alec stops just to fit the hand that was landing the blows into Q’s hip so Alec can pull Q’s cock away from the couch cushions. “You’re making a mess, darling.” Q sniffles but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t care. He just wants to come. 

“I want to come. Please, let me come.” Q asks, pushing against the hands that won’t let him find release. 

“Three more, kitten. Do you want to count?” Q shakes his head in refusal, but does cry out extra-loud for the last three blows. Alec makes a pleased noise deep in his chest as he admire’s Q’s backside. One hand keeps him pressed into the couch back and the other hand hovers gently over the red marks he left all over the boffin’s backside. 

Q whimpers and his hips hitch as he feels the heat of Alec’s hand hovering over his abused flesh, but after a moment, he doesn’t try to struggle further and just tries to focus on his breathing. 

“How was that kitten? Should we keep going? Or should we focus on my needs, hmm?” As he asks, he presses his clothed cock into Q’s hip. Q almost sobs just thinking of how close the jean material is to his overheated and prickling ass. 

“I wanna come. Fuck me so I can come.” Q gets out after a moment of white-hot static shoots through his brain. 

“Okay, kitten. Where is your lube?”

Q groans in despair, “Bedroom.” 

Without a by-your-leave, Q is pulled backwards so quickly he doesn’t have the opportunity to fight. Then he is in Alec’s arms and being walked into the bedroom. He’s dropped to his knees on the bed and told, “Ass up, kitten.” Q doesn’t have it in him to even pretend to disobey. As Alec roots around in the first drawer, smirking in triumph when he comes up with lube and a condom. 

The prep is quick, two fingers at his entrance and pressing firmly until he relaxes and they slide in, replaced quickly with three. The stretch and burn throbs in time with the rest of his ass in such a way that everything becomes hazy and just this side of too much, too hot. Too prickly, too scratchy, too oh… too big. Q makes a stunned noise as Alec removes his fingers and slides his cock inside in one steady push, barely giving Q time to adjust as he pressed in to the hilt. The front of his thighs brush against Q’s welts and add to the too hot, too tight feeling enveloping his body.

Only then does Alec pause, “How are you doing, Kitten?”

Q grunts, truthfully unsure. He twists his hips experimentally while Alec remains unmoved. He clenches, once, twice. Alec grunts but doesn’t move. Q sucks in a deep breath, but instantly realizes he misses the pressure from the couch. He clings to one of Alec's hands and moves it up to rest against his collarbones. 

Alec shifts to press more of his body weight against Q’s back and grips that hand, pressing Q back against his unmoving chest. Q sighs, “Good. Too much but good, too. Please? Please move.” 

Q can feel the grin Alec slips across the nape of his neck, planting a sucking kiss before beginning to thrust. Q watches from the corner of his eye as Alec’s only grounded arm bulges at the bicep as he not only keeps his weight up but also presses Q’s chest back with his other arm, creating that pressure that Q craves. The thrusts are more like slow grinds, digging Alec’s hipbones across Q’s raw ass. 

Q can’t help the tears but presses back against the thrusts all the same. Everything is too hot, too tight. He’s shaking apart at the seams and he can’t…

Alec growls and digs his fingers into Q’s chest and throat where he holds the boffin tight, jerking as he comes and bringing Q over that blissful edge with him. Q blinks away the stars that are sparking across his vision in the prettiest way, and he has a moment to think … this could be addicting.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare is important, folks! I just don’t have time to write the scene at the mo’. It will be added later. Ya’ know, if I ever get to it.


	8. Bond x Q - 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. No surprise here. 
> 
> ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶s̶o̶ ̶R̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶ ̶w̶e̶a̶k̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶e̶n̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶i̶m̶a̶g̶i̶n̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶i̶l̶'̶ ̶p̶i̶x̶i̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶s̶t̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶ ̶p̶i̶n̶k̶/̶b̶l̶u̶e̶/̶p̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶(̶w̶h̶i̶c̶h̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶c̶o̶l̶o̶r̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ ̶M̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶e̶k̶)̶ ̶p̶i̶x̶i̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶i̶r̶c̶u̶t̶.̶ ̶L̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ ̶d̶o̶e̶s̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶,̶ ̶M̶ ̶a̶p̶p̶r̶o̶v̶e̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶.̶
> 
> Wait, this is supposed to be smut.

The next afternoon, Q is still doing his best not to show his subordinates just how sore his ass is. He’s not sure how successful he’s been able to hide it from R or Moneypenny; going by their smug looks, not much, so he just eyes them smugly right back. ‘Yes, my arse is sore,’ he hopes his looks covey, ‘but it was so worth it.’ Going by their eye-rolls, he thinks they get it. 

Despite the distraction, he is able to complete 3 projects and assists 002 with breaching the security of her weapons-dealing mark. They gather enough intel that she’ll be returning to London in the next 48 hours. All-in-all, he thinks he deserves to be a little smug. 

So of course that’s when Bond walks into Q branch. Damn. Q knew he was forgetting something. 

He knows - he knows - that neither Bond or Alec consider these little liaisons as going steady. There has been no talk about exclusivity, they both still fuck during missions with or without honeypots. And that’s fine. Q isn’t one to be jealous - it’s a waste of productivity and energy. And he’s used to having multiple and infrequent partners. That’s what happens when you work with a governmental spy agency. 

However, he also knows that the two blonds are quite good friends. And also know how to kill with their thumbs. When he started this he didn't know that they would keep coming back for this long; he hadn’t realized that he would need to tell them about each other. Honestly, he’d thought that after the first successful mission each, the agents would lose interest. But of course they can’t even follow their own usual patterns. 

So this leaves Q standing at his platform station, hands planted on his sit-stand desk, as he faces a post-mission-high double-oh that wants a booty call while Q’s booty is off-the-table this time around. Q nods in Bond’s direction and cuts his eyes to the office-space he rarely uses since he prefers to stand among his subordinates. 

Bond nods back and wanders into the small, separated space. R gives Q a glance over her tablet as she swings by his desk with a new cup of tea. Q signs and takes a sip of the tea. His voice is as dry as the desert when he speaks up, “Alert security if I’m not back out in 5?”

R snorts and rolls her eyes, “And have them walk in to you being buggered? No thanks, boss. You’ve got about 30 minutes until that meeting with HR.” 

Oh, big buggering fuck. He forgot about that, too. Alec must have shorted out his brain last night. He hums and takes a bigger swing of his tea. “I suppose that’s another option.”

R sighs. Q isn’t sure how she makes it both exasperated and wistful. “If 002 ever fancies me back, you best be as understanding as I’m being right now.”

Q nods, “If you find yourself a lady worthy of your brilliance, you can always borrow my office.” He turns and winks at her before making his way to the office.

Inside, Bond is sitting on the futon that takes up a good third of the room while he looks at the lone Home Bargains art print on the opposing wall. He looks up and smirks as Q walks in and locks the door. “You know, not that I’m opposed to office sex, but I was planning on offering you dinner again.”

Q shrugs, “Welcome Home. But I’ve 4 more hours, at least. No sense in you waiting. However, full disclosure, I’ve only 30 minutes and my arse isn’t an option at this time. I’m too sore.” 

Bond’s eyebrows slowly rise higher on his face as Q speaks, but his smile never waivers. “Oh? Well, I hope it was at least worth it. Anyone I know?” He waggles said eyebrows, gesturing with his hand for Q to step closer. 

Q steps until he’s only an arms reach away, humming. “Well, I have a type, you see. Something about blonds and muscles and men with licenses to kill.” He shrugs nonchalantly and loses the last of his nervous energy as Bond’s grin widens.

Bond lunges forward to wrap his palms gently at Q’s hips to drag him forward. “So, you’re Alec’s little kitten, hmm? He was singing your praises this morning.” 

Q slides one of his knees between Bond’s thighs to rest it on the futon’s edge, draping his arms loosely on Bond’s shoulders. “Do you two always gossip about your conquests?” 

Bond laughs and rubs his palms soothingly up Q’s back. “Only the good ones. And never enough to breach the virtues of their privacy. But, oh, the things we’re going to be talking about after this.” He suddenly reaches a hand up and grips Q’s curls in a tight grip, tugging him down enough for a kiss. 

Q can’t help his startled moan as he opens up his mouth for the kiss, letting Bond control the depth as he keeps gripping and twisting at the strands in his hand. Bond had never done that before - Q doesn't think that he'd ever asked with Bond. It must be something Alec told him. When Q’s let up, he knows his eyes must be dazed and he can feel the flush in his cheeks and down his neck. “So, no concerns, then?”

Bond confirms with another kiss, this one lasting only long enough to make Q whine as Bond pulls back and angles Q’s head to kiss down his jaw and throat to bite against the fabric of Q’s shirt. “30 minutes?” 

Q nods.

“Well, best make it worth it,” Bond winks and starks working on Q’s trouser buttons. Q gets with the program and begins to reciprocate, fighting with Bond’s buckle until it’s bested.

Cocks freed, Bond pulls two condoms from his suit jacket pocket and rips one open to put onto his own cock. At the same time, he shifts and settles until he’s laying sideways on the futon, pants sliding off and down his legs. Q begins following him but gets stopped by a palm on his hip. “Turn around, Q, let me see Alec’s hard work.” 

Q blushes and his cock jumps as he fumbles putting the condom on. He lets his pants fall full to the ground, tripping out of his shoes to scramble onto the futon and swinging one leg to straddle Bond’s thighs, facing Bond’s feet. The man wears sock garters, the functional (non-functional) part of his brain thought as Bond’s previous words scrolled through the other half of his brain. 

Bond puts his hands back to Q’s hips and arranges the man as he sees fit, to get a better look. He hums and draws one finger around a still- tender mark of Alec’s index on the back of Q’s thigh. “Oh, these will be beautiful bruises. It really is too bad that he didn’t take pictures like he had wanted to.” 

Q’s traitorous cock jumps again. He had to curl into himself and let his hands drop to either side of Bond’s knees. “20 minutes.” Q fails at trying to sound unaffected. 

Bond lets out an affected sad sigh. “We both best get to it, then.” And then in one motion he pulls Q’s hips closer to his head as he slides further down the futon to take Q’s cock in his mouth. It’s heat and the flutter of Bond’s tongue and the tapered rumble of his trapped laugh.

Q curses and takes a breath before he returns the favor and presses his mouth around Bond’s cock, sucking and working his tongue, trying to get his self-possession back by proving his skill. If Bond’s approving hum is any indication, he’s succeeding. Of course, that hum is accompanied by a controlled roll of Bond’s hip, making Q take more until Bond’s cock is being swallowed in the preservation of Q’s gag-reflex. 

Q sucks and rolls his own hips, smacking at Bond’s thigh in reprimand as the older man presses a thumb into one of Q’s forming bruises just to make him jump. He can’t help but squirm, even with his dick held in Bond’s mouth. The other hand gripping and fondling his bullocks doesn't help. Q would try working on Bond’s, but to be honest he needs both wobbling arms to hold himself up. 

Instead, he rises off until only Bond’s tip is still inside his mouth, takes a deep breath, and goes back down in three quick bobs, holding at the tip against just to repeat the pattern. The noises are slick and sound loud in the room. Q has a moment of concern about sound-proofing or lack thereof, but quickly forgets the concern as Bond does something with his tongue. Oh, maybe he could learn that.

The whole experience is a race to the finish-line and both parties cross nearly at the same time with matching thrusts and hot suction, faces messy and breathless. Q pulls back onto his knees and checks his watch. 

4 minutes. “Fuck.”


	9. Alec x Q: Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec's POV because Q wouldn't cooperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I START this with them undressing and I still can't keep from writing about 300 words of dialog. I'm apparently even trash at writing trash. lol.

Q is wearing lingerie. It’s emerald green and shines oh-so-temptingly as Alec helps Q take off his shirt. 

They’re in Q’s apartment again- and they’ve actually made it to the bed this time. Q’s wearing panties. The little hellions, Gambit and Zug, have been herded out into the livingroom and Q is covered in satin. Alec might find himself a little distracted.

“Oh, kitten. What brought this on?” Alec asks as he slips his hand from the bare skin of Q’s diaphragm to the satin on his chest, testing the difference of texture with his palm. Q is almost just as smooth as the fabric he’s covered in. It’s delicious. 

Q shrugs nonchalantly. “A little birdy told me you might be appreciative.”

Alec hums and brings Q closer to straddle his thighs, struggling to make eye-contact and follow the conversation while he keeps moving his hands back and forth - first across the thick straps at Q’s back, then to the back panel of Q’s panties and across his thighs. “A little birdy, huh? Obviously, it must be someone I know.” 

Q nods and throws his hands over Alec’s shoulders to spin a shaggy lock in his fingers. “This particular birdy is 5’10” with blond hair and blue eyes. And you both may have been expounding my very numerous virtues to each other for oh…. About 2 months now.” He drops more fully onto Alec’s thighs as he lets him think about it. 

Alec understands who Q is talking about immediately. He just doesn’t understand why he’s only being told now. He reaches up and tilts Q’s chin just so to look him in the eyes and measure the beat of his heart at the same time - testing responses to detect lies. It’s always a little harder if the subject is aroused, but he’s not a Double-Oh for nothing. Why hadn’t the silly little thing told him before. Was this some sort of extended honeypot? What would he gain by this?

Q rolls his eyes in exasperation, no doubt understanding what Alec is doing, but following along. That calms some of Alec’s initial unrest enough to respond. “You and James, huh? No wonder he’s walking around like a cat that got the canary.” 

Q faux-pouts. “And here I thought I was your only kitten.” 

Alec chuckles and shakes Q’s chin in a scolding manner, fingers tightening on Q’s chin just so. “Yet you’ve been catting around, haven’t you?” His voice may be rougher than a tease. 

Q just shrugs. “Pot. Kettle. The only reason I think it’s pertinent to tell you now is because this thing between us has been happening for longer than I initially projected. And because Bond found out when you spanked my arse raw the day before he came back wanting a booty call.”  
Alec holds back a chuckle. That does sound plausible. But it doesn’t explain why he’s so unsettled. He hums in thought instead as his hands continue to roam between skin and satin and back in distracting patterns along Q’s body. He’s watching as Q’s cock twitches and grows under his green panties. “And do you have any other partners I should know about?” 

Q doesn’t respond so Alec looks up to make eye-contact. Q cocks his head. “Why would it matter if I did? You have your own partners; sometimes you even have them while I’m still on coms with you. I realize now that I didn’t have the same conversation that I had with Bond, but I thought it would be obvious. None of us are looking for exclusivity. And if you wanted that, then you should have been forthright about it.”

Alec frowns thoughtfully. The little boffin did have a point. Q sighs and runs his fingertips down Alec’s face. “But if you must know; I simply haven’t the time between managing two bloody Double-Oh’s and an entire spy branch to have yet another partner on the side.” He flings himself to the side, sitting against the headboard with one leg tucked under his thigh and the other propping up his elbow. His pretty satin and chub are forgotten as he gives Alec his space. “Bond seemed fine with this arrangement. He explained that it wouldn’t be the first time you shared. Do you feel differently?”

Alec thinks about it for a second longer before deciding ‘fuck it’. He crawls up the bed to hover over Q’s form. “No, you’re right. Sharing with Bond doesn’t bother me… Others,” He makes a face. “I’ve always been a little possessive. And hypocritical.” 

Q buries his hands back in Alec’s hair and twists gently - Alec didn’t like the pulling as rough as he did, but did enjoy the scritching. “I’m finding myself partial to the first. The second will require negotiation.” He shrugs. “But that can wait until the morning” He presses his hips up to meet Alec’s, gasping - probably at the feeling of the satin slipping against his frenulum. 

Alec grins and drops down further to take Q’s lips in a kiss, sloppy and wet, before he drifts down to Q’s neck, leaving little red suckmarks as he goes until he gets to that spot on Q’s collarbone, lavishing it with a bite that makes Q arch up and hiss. God, the noises this little kitten could make. 

Alec chuckles, “That’s it, kitten. Let me hear you.” He goes further, sucking in Q’s little nipples between his lips, then working them with his teeth through the bralette. Q makes little noises but nothing exciting. Alec mentally pouts but soon moves on when he doesn’t elicit a bigger response, alternatively licking and sucking and nibbling as he follows the enticing curve of Q’s ribs into his unprotected side. 

He takes a big bite and Q squeaks before slapping the palm of his hand against one of Alec’s arms in reprimand. Alec chuckles good-naturedly at the kitten's little claws, making sure to nibbe hard on the arch of Q’s hip and then suck a mark at the natural ‘v’ right above Q’s trapped cock. 

Q whines and squirms as Alec slips his hands under each of his arse cheeks and into the fabric of Q’s panties, stretching them taunt across Q’s leaking member, better framing the little darling and highlighting where the tip peaks out the top. 

He starts at the base, nuzzling into Q’s barely-held sack before licking up the fabric, dampening it until he reaches Q’s frenulum, making sure to lick the exposed tip - the first time he’d been given the opportunity to do so latex-free. 

Q hooks one of his legs across his shoulders and rolls his hips, making the cutest little fuss noise that Alec has learned to interpret as ‘more’. Too bad for Q, but things would be going at his pace this time. “How attached are you to these panties?” 

Q raises a hand to make a see-saw motion. “I’ve 5 more pairs.” As if he feels Alec’s incredulous look, he raises his head to look down at Alec and defend himself. “They were on sale and the sales associate was very compelling.”

Alec drowns a chortling laugh into Q’s hip. “That settles it, then. Turn over and hand me the lube.” 

Q sighs as if it’s a big imposition, but he moves quickly, making sure to wiggle his arse and the swell of his bollocks in Alec’s face. The lube is fished out of the drawer quickly and gently tossed on the bed besides Alec’s hand. 

Alec pops the cap and coats two fingers of one hand. The other holds the panties to the side as his fingers press and slide across Q’s pink little hole, slipping a little further inside each pass. The contrast between the pink of Q’s opening and the green of his satin panties actually made a compelling image. Alec leans forward to bite the cheek without the fabric in the way. “I should take a picture of this.” 

Q swears and thrusts his cock into the empty air in front of him. Alic licks the space he just nibbled. “Is that a yes?” 

Q shakes his head, forehead rubbing harshly against the pillow his arms had gathered under him. “Bond said you’d told him the same thing about your spank-marks.” 

Alec starts thrusting his fingers where they’ve made their home, twisting and curling before suddenly adding a third. “My spank-marks on my kitten, and I didn’t even get to take a picture of it. It was a shame.” He thrusts a little harder, smiling at the choked little noise Q let out. “Oh well, maybe my kitten will agree to it next time, hmm?” 

Alec takes the hint when a condom is tossed in his general direction and wraps himself. “When can I fuck my kitten bare, do you think?” He kisses up Q’s back, teeth snapping at the band of his bralette as Alec pulls Q up to his knees by a grip to his hair and neck. 

Q trusts again into the empty air before settling against Alec’s front. “Maybe…” he gasps as Alec twists and tugs his hair one last time before he takes the hand to pump and aim himself. If he has to squeeze the base of his cock a little longer than intended, Q won’t know. Q tries again, “Maybe we can negotiate.” 

Alec growls and presses himself in that tight, wet heat. The satin of Q’s panties are stretched to their limits, Q’s sack spilling out one side even as it keeps the majority of his cock trapped. Q makes that fussy sound again and twists his hips in evaluation. Alec gives him a moment, then pushes him back down to the bed, full weight pressing against the slighter man (only partially held up by his own arm) as he fucks up and up again. 

Q had barely caught himself on his elbows and he cries out. “Yes. Oh yes, please?” He impales himself and starts a dirty rhythm that has the bed squeaking. Alec scraps the fingers of his free hand down Q’s side and plucks at the tight elastic of Q’s panties, plucks harder a second time just to hear the sound Q makes. 

When the thrusts get erratic, Alec slips his palm across Q’s cock, trapping it against Q’s taut little tummy and making sure that the satin can still be felt up and down. Q gives a startled cry and cums. The pulses of Q’s orgasm in his arse actually have Alec cumming with him, biting a groan into Q’s bralette strap.

As he pulls out, Q slowly flops over, panties stretched out beyond saving and spunk droplets ruining his bralette. Q looks down to see the damage and winces but otherwise doesn’t move again. “Oh well; it doesn’t match the others anyways. What would I do with a bralette that doesn't have matching panties?”

Alec chuckles and just sits back on his heels to admire the ruin before him.What did he do right to catch this pretty little stray? And what did he need to do to keep it?


	10. Q’s Thoughtful Interlude: Size Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This did not go where I thought it was going to go when I picked these prompts last month. But I enjoyed it.

Q knows rationally that the two Double-Oh’s aren’t much taller than him - an inch, maybe two. But that’s not how it feels.

It feels like they tower over him. It feels like he has to climb them in order to kiss them… but maybe that’s just his preference in kissing position talking. It feels like if either of them were to pick him up he would never be able to reach the ground again without the fall hurting. Or… shit… maybe the fall is metaphorical. . . and linked to the ‘L’ word. 

Oh… we’re shelving that thought quickly. Hidden amongst those drunk karaoke moments never to be visited again, ta. And fuck you too, Moneypenny; kareoke, really. Ugh.

Moving on… they’re broad - so much broader than him. They can press him against the wall, or lift him up, or surround him in their arms. When either of them spread themselves out above him, they easily blot out the spaces behind them. This is why Q forgets where he is - why doing something in the office despite his ‘immunity’ from M’s wrath isn’t ideal. That is most definitely the reason - that and the sheer bloody size of the Double-Oh’s balls when they think they can get away with something - but Q digresses. 

Really, where everyone thinks it matters - their pricks - they’re pretty similar in size as well. Q has long come to terms with his own size - slightly below the average and thin besides. Honestly, by now, he’s found that the majority of men he partnered with could swallow him down to be an excellent thing. And it wasn’t like he often topped so it didn’t matter there, either. And yes, that was by choice and not by circumstance - ta, you bitch. 

Anyways, both agents were a good hand grasp - Q isn’t going to bother with actual measurements - he isn’t foolish enough to even insinuate a dick-measuring contest to men that bleed testosterone. Well, if you must know Bond is probably just a bit shorter than Trevelyan but thicker, so Q supposed that made up for it. Oh, and Bond was a grower, too. It was fascinating. Anyways, a good hand grasp and both uncircumcised as well. Which was a little different than handling his own but probably more fun. Yes, yes; keep the judgment going - Q is both below average and circumcised but at least he’s getting frequently buggered; are we done now? 

~*~

Moneypenny and R can’t keep their cackles of laughter to themselves anymore, leaning against each other to keep themselves from falling out of the pub booth the four of them had commandeered a few hours ago. They had bullied Q into the other side and stoppered him with Tanner, who looks both amused and dismayed at Q’s drunken stream-of-consciousness. 

It had taken the girls numerous shots and tasty, colorful cocktails to hear this absolute gold and it was worth every pound to have their curiosities answered. Q could always be counted on to be a rambling drunk, and his RTI training meant that he would be guaranteed to ramble about anything other than work, which the ladies had used on multiple occasions to wonderful conclusions. If they had subtly goaded him to talk about cocks, it’s not like he’d remember much in the morning -- perhaps just enough to shelve it away like that drunken karaoke. 

Q, in a fit of pique at their laughs, decides to throw his head into Tanner’s shoulder and pout. Tanner winces but reaches up with his free hand to gently pet Q’s curls. 

“Are we not going to talk about the ‘L’ word?” Tanner asks after he’s 90% certain Q has fallen asleep on him. 

R and Moneypenny look at each other before looking back to Tanner and shrugging almost in-time. R is the one to speak, “Nah. He’s got it. They’ve got this weird negotiation thing going on. Besides, he’s Q - they’re fucked.” 

Moneypenny nods and raises her glass. R and Tanner are quick to toast.


	11. Bond x Q: Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond's POV. Bond uses Q's flat key for the first time and decides to talk his way into Q's bed - or will it be out of it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... If you're not here for a drunk Tanner and cats, then just start reading after ~*~
> 
> As usual, I can't keep myself from writing fluff and fun before my smut.

James lets himself into Q’s flat using the keyfob the boffin had given him after the last time he’d slept over nearly 2 weeks ago. At the time, he’d been a little surprised at the trust, but Q had explained patiently that the only things of importance he kept in his flat were his cats and his teas. The prior James was too besotted with to ever hurt and the second was beneath his notice. Q strived hard to keep his work and personal life separate, selections of previous and current partners excluded, so the only electronics that held any sensitive data were the tablet and laptop he kept on his person. 

Q had continued on as if he hadn’t shown James his throat, “Besides, the cats miss you something terrible when you’re away on mission. This way, you can come visit even if I’m still at the office.”

Well, he was back from another mission. And he could admit to himself that he missed a certain boffin and his two ridiculously cute cats. So here he was at 7 in the morning, letting himself in.

The cats were quick to clamber to the door - Gambit and Zugzwang both, even though the little tuxedo tabby was less curious than his bicolored brother - and rub against his crisped trousers. James slips the door closed quickly so Gambit couldn’t escape and bends down to scoop up little Zug to give his chin some clucks before he gets too shy. 

Q must not be awake yet - they wouldn’t be so expressive if they’d been loved on yet.

There is a moan from the couch that has James on alert, but he keeps his body relaxed so as not to concern Zuggy - the poor thing was so high-strung as it was; he didn’t need more stress in his life. He gently places the cat into the little cave portion of the cat tower that took up a good quarter of the living room wall and faces the possible intruder sleeping on the couch. 

The man has on a rumpled suit and his face pressed into the back of the couch. Just off a bender, then. James tries to keep his sense of jealousy in check. When it was just fun and games, he hadn’t minded the thought of Q with someone else - he certainly had more than his fair share of sexual partners. But then Q had told him about Alec and told Alec that they were it. And Alec and James had agreed - honeypots only. Q’d given him a keyfob to his home, for chrissakes. So this man couldn’t be a one-night-stand. He couldn’t be, but James wanted to murder him anyways. 

As if the man could sense James’ murderous thoughts, he pulls his face back enough to squint at the form over him. His face goes through several facial expressions - confusion, fear, concern - before settling into into a blank mask of ‘fuck it’. 

“Tanner,” James recognizes him now. He schools his mask into something a little more pleasant. The man was straight and 100% in love with his wife - Elenore or Elizabeth. El-something. 

“Q!” Tanner calls out, then whines in pain as it makes his headache worse. He keeps going, though. “Q! Please call off your menace of a bookend!”

After a few thumps and stumbles from the bedroom, Q comes to lean against the door jam, hair disarrayed, scrubbing his bare eyes, sleep pants slung low. “There’s no need to shout, and Gambit isn’t a menace. He just wants love. And they aren’t identical, why must you come up with weird twin references? Why are so you insistent about hating my cats, Bill? They...oh.” He’s opened his eyes and is staring at James before a smile takes over his face. “Welcome home, James.”

James can’t help but smile back, “I’m home. I thought I’d pop over to see my favorite kitten,” He steps over to Zuggy to pet him as he says it, but from the corner of his eye he can see how flushed Q becomes. “I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”

Q shrugs, “Some of us from the office went out last night. The ladies - R and Moneypenny - decided to leave us when I’d ceased to be amusing.” 

Tanner makes a noise in the back of his throat. “They did want to know how much you remembered in the morning.” 

Q squints in Tanner’s direction, “Enough. My retribution will be swift and devastating.” 

Tanner pales, but James isn’t sure if that is due to Q’s threat or his hangover. Either way, the man excuses himself from the flat as soon as he has his shoes on and tells Q he’ll see him tomorrow. Q grunts in his direction and stumbles up to James to press his head into James’ shoulder to block out the light. 

James finds himself curling his hands in Q’s hair gently, teasing the tangles out in small sections as they begin to sway. Gambit presses between their feet in a bid for attention, but James ignores him for now. 

Q makes a fussy sound when James begins leading him back to bed, but allows the manhandling like he always does. In moments, James has the curtains closed against the light and they’re both curled under the covers, Q clinging to James’ pectoral. 

~*~

When James wakes next, it’s to Q wiggling in his arms. As he lets go, Q shoots out of bed and to the bathroom. The sound is pissing, not vomiting, so James lays back and tucks his arms under his head and waits patiently for the boffin to finish his morning routine and feel more human again. 

Q easily clambers back into the bed and leans over for a kiss, breath minty and eyes clear. “Welcome home. Or have I said that already?” 

James chuckles and kisses Q a few more times. “You’ve already said, but I don’t mind hearing it again. DId you have a good night?” 

Q wrinkles his nose and presses his morning erection into James’ hip. “They got me drunk and began interrogating me over the both of you. I’ll need to infiltrate their mobiles later to make sure they didn’t make a recording, the ungrateful bints.” 

James cages Q in and reverses their positions, “Oh? What naugthy things did you say about us?”

Q scoffs. “They just wanted to know if the both of you were proportionate, how fit you were. Things like that.” He rolls his hips. “I didn’t say anything about our previous… hmm, encounters. Although Moneypenny was there when I first met Alec. And R knew why I was slipping away into my office that one time.” 

James lowers his mouth to kiss Q’s cheeks, the hinge of his jaw, his neck. He murmurs in Q’s ear, “So you didn’t tell them about how I pressed you against a wall so tight that all you could do was squirm to get off?” He presses his thigh in tight against Q’s cock as a reminder, relishing in Q’s moan, in the nails scraping across his back. 

“You didn’t tell them how you went to your knees for Alec within minutes of meeting him?” James bites down on a particularly pretty patch of neck. Q bucks up in shock, whimpering. James continues, “You didn’t tell them how you worked him over so well he pulled on your pretty curls so hard he thought he’d accidentally hurt you - until you asked oh so sweetly for more?” Q whines high in his throat, flush blooming in his cheeks and down his neck and chest, crawling down further in blotches and spots. His eyes were glazed, only a ring of green to be seen around the saucers of his pupils. 

“James… James please,” Q begs so gently - completely at opposition to the scratching and pulling of his hands. 

“Do you like that, darling? Do you like to know that we talk about our feisty kitten when we’re away? That we share what we like best? What you like best?” James immobilizes Q’s hands in one of his, keeping them above their heads. At the same time, he shifts his weight to press the palm of his free hand down hard on Q’s chest just centered against his collarbones. He keeps his eyes focused on Q’s face, to make sure that he’s up for it. 

Q keens and thrashes, but no matter how hard he bucks, he can’t switch their positions. He doesn’t want to - James can see that in his face, in the way that Q’s lips are curling upwards at the same time that tears gather in his eyes. Oh, this perfect little force of nature. James grinds his cock next to Q’s, tensing his abs so Q gets the rub of those muscles he likes so much. 

James sucks and bites a ring of bruises against Q’s neck, just above his hand where they will be covered by a shirt later. “Alec was so upset that he couldn’t show me the beautiful bruises he left in his kitten’s skin to remember him by. Instead, he told me in detail about those cute little hiccups you make when you cried… and all I could think of was how much you cried when I had you in this bed for the first time. Do you remember? You struggled just like this before you let it go for me. Will you let go?” 

Q fusses and cries, he drums his feet like he had that first time, but soon enough he stops his false struggling and melts into the bed. James groans and ruts into the hollow of Q’s hip.

“So good for me,” He croons. “So good for us. Alec told me how much of a mess you left on that sofa.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t it the same one Tanner just spent the night on?” Q gasps and whines but keeps himself still, letting James do as he pleases. “Hmm... “ James sighs into Q’s skin. “Yeah, just like this, baby. Listen to you,” James coos and starts a rhythm with his hips. “Feel what a mess you’re making between us. Won’t you make it a little messier? For me, darling? I can’t wait to tell Alec what a good boy you’ve been for us.”

Q’s moan tapers out in surprise as he comes, thighs and arms tensing before becoming lax again. The extra slick and heat, along with the feeling of Q boneless and trusting below him, is enough to send James over the edge as well. 

James doesn't hesitate to drop most of his weight down on the slighter man as he takes time to catch his breath and stretch out his arms. Q tsks but only wraps James closer as soon as he has his hands free, raising his knees to better fit James between his thighs. 

Once the come between them begins to cool and congeal, James sighs but pulls away to go get a wet flannel from Q’s connected loo. When he comes back into the room, Q is still belly-up, but his face is covered by a pillow and his arms, as if he’s trying to smother himself. James pads up quietly and begins cleaning up the mess, leaning down to leave a kiss on Q’s nipple. Q squeaks but otherwise doesn’t move. 

“Too much?” James asks gently as he lays back into the bed, propping himself up on one arm.

Q mumbles. 

“Run that past me again?” 

Q lifts the pillow to expose his mouth and nose, but keeps his eyes hidden. “Good. Just…You two really do talk about me, don’t you?”

James laughs gently. “Did you not believe us?” He slips his hands down and around Q’s skin in random patterns. “We’ve said similar things before.” 

Q’s blush returns and he squirms, but he raises the pillow to squint in James’ direction. “Not like that, you haven’t.” His voice sounds both cross and embarrassed. 

James pauses his hand. “Would you prefer we stopped now that we know we’re speaking about the same person? Or would you just prefer that I don’t tell you?”

Q looks up to the ceiling. “No…. no. You can keep doing both. I just… didn’t realize how it would make me feel.” James begins his hand again and snuggles up closer. 

“That feeling is good, though?”

Q sighs and finally loses all of his tension. “Yes. Very… good.” 

James doesn’t miss how Q’s mostly-soft cock twitches in remembrance, and grins to himself. “Does this mean you’ll let us take pictures?”

Q makes an offended sound and attempts to push James out of the bed.


	12. Bond x Q: Kitchen Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I have had family emergencies (yes, plural. . . it's like a domino effect of bullshit.) Anyways, this makes it hard to guarantee timely updates. But I will definitely be working on this when I've time and plan on having all 31 prompts competed by late November, by the latest. I'm also planning on adding more fluff in between the smut during December. So this might look very different by the time I'm through with it.

James swings by to Q-Branch to pick Q up for dinner, as is becoming a habit. The grin Q shoots to James as he walks through is becoming a habit, too. “Welcome Home, 007.” 

James smiles back. “Good to be home, Q.” He steps closer. “Can I steal you away for dinner?” He might ask Q, but he looks to R for confirmation. She barely looks over her tablet and nods, making a lazy shoo gesture with her other hand. It makes James chuckle and Q puff up in offense, but he leaves easily enough so there must not be much that needs attention at the moment. 

“Are you really intending to take me to dinner? Or can I convince you straight to my flat?” Q asks with mischief as they leave the building, taking James’ hand in a way that was too new to become a habit… yet, anyways. 

James hums. “I could be convinced… but when have you eaten last?”

“Oh, recently, I’m sure,” Q tries to waive the concern off. It might have been more successful if his stomach hadn’t taken the moment to growl. James laughs. 

“I’m going to assume that your kitchen is just as bare as I left it. Which means: take-out… Or, shall I invite you to mine?” James says it with level teasing, but Q nearly trips over his own feet in shock anyways. 

“You’ll really let me?” Q asks. “We don’t have to, if you’re unsure?” 

James just tugs Q closer to wrap an arm around his waist and keeps walking towards his vehicle. “It was never a big deal - I just have a roommate that normally intimidates my dates and is very particular about his belongings. You might have met him before - He also goes by a number and enjoys cursing in Russian.”

Q blinks up at him. “Alec. . . you live with Alec, which is why you’d never invite me over before?” 

James nods, “No needs to sound incredulous. You know we’re close friends. We’re normally never in London at the same time so it doesn't get crowded. But we also don’t like to be surprised with unexpected houseguests. So we have rules. Well, rule. No conquests or strays are to be brought home.” 

“So Alec won’t mind?”

James stops walking so he can cup Q’s face in his hand. “Surely you know, Q. You’re far more than a conquest. For either of us.” 

Q blushes and clears his throat before turning forwards once more. “Well, then. Lead on.” 

~*~

Once out of the elevator, James leads them straight to the open concept kitchen, removing his suit-jacket and draping it over the back of a barstool. He rolls up his sleeves while he checks the fridge and freezer for ingredients and pretends he doesn’t see how Q oggles the muscle tone on his forearms. “How does pasta sound?”

“Great.” Q offers his opinion as he steps around the bar to inspect the rest of the living space. The living room and kitchen were all one room, similar to his flat. However, where his place looked cluttered by books and cat hair, the Double-Oh’s place looks modern and sleek. Spartan. A flatscreen took up the majority of one wall in the living room, and the coffee table and couch was completely cleared of items. The kitchen was much the same - devoid of anything on the counter excluding a very expensive coffee machine. 

Inspection over, Q steps over and wraps his arms around Bonds back, grinding his half-hard cock into James’ pert asscheek. James laughs and reaches back to squeeze a handful of Q’s. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to wait? Truly, I’ve other appetites I’m more interested in indulging at the moment.” Q gives a small bite to an edge of skin over James’ collar. Not enough to mark, just to tease. 

James makes a cross between a groan and growl and twists out of Q’s hold just to come back close, wrapping one of his own arms around Q’s waist and slipping the other in Q’s hair. They kiss, fast and ravenous, as James guides Q’s back into the counter, using his hand in Q’s hair to get the slighter man just where he wants him. 

“I’ve been convinced,” James speaks when the kiss breaks. “I only worry that you’re insatiable.” 

Q pouts. “I’ve missed you.” He grinds into James like James needs more proof.

James laughs. “Alec has been gone on mission for a while too, hasn’t he? Our poor kitten, unfulfilled.” 

Q nods mischievously and hikes himself onto the counter, “I’ve been so empty with the both of you gone. Fill me up?” 

“Who am I to refuse?” James murmurs before he guides Q’s long legs to wrap around his waist and goes back to kissing Q, sucking marks on his throat when they both need a little air. 

Q makes a fussy sound that James successfully interprets to mean there’s too much clothing between them. He goes for the buttons on his own shirt while Q tackles his cardigan, each man flinging clothing off as it comes free. 

James jerks Q closer to the edge of the counter and starts working on the man’s trousers, getting them and his pants down around Q’s calves as Q flails and kicks off his shoes and toes the clothes off the rest of the way himself. Before Q can begin on James’ trousers, James pulls the packet of lube and condom out of his pocket. 

Q snorts and raises an eyebrow before he gets his clever fingers to work on James’ button fly. James’ boops the younger man on the nose, “You’re the eager one here, darling, so you really shouldn’t be making fun of my preparedness.”

Q reaches into James’ pants to free his cock and give it a few pumps, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He suddenly dismounts from the counter and twists to bend himself over the granite, removing his glasses and putting them a safe distance away. “Come on; I want your cock.” 

James growls and is quick to pin Q over and down by a hand in his hair and rips open the packet of lube with his teeth. One hand pours the cold liquid down on Q’s crack and asshole directly, making Q jump and moan, pressing his head into the cool of the granite in return. His cock starts drooling, dripping down the cabinet front, which he will try to be embarrassed about later. 

James doesn’t hesitate to press a finger fully inside, sliding quickly in and out, rubbing the gel around Q’s rim before quickly pushing with two fingers this time. Q bucks back on the fingers, riding the digits as much as James’ grip in his hair allows, fucking himself. “Yes, yes,” He mumbles into the granite, fingers slipping across the surface as he tries to find somewhere to grip. If he stretches far enough, he can grip one side of the counter, which he does, so that he can get more leverage. 

More scissoring and twisting, then suddenly James’ s gloved cock is pressing in at his entrance. Q sucks in his breath and releases it explosively, relaxing as he does. James takes it as the invitation it is, and slides in on one smooth glide. 

“God, yes… This.” Q hisses and rotates his hips as much as the position afford him. “I’ve missed this.” 

James bends over to chuckle in Q’s ear, nipping any flesh he can get near his mouth, “Me too, darling. Me too.” 

He stands upright starling quickly, one hand clenching into Q’s side so Q can’t move and inch, cock still impaling him. And then he just stays still.

Q whines and tries to wiggle, rolling his forehead back and forth against granite countertop. He can feel James’ cock twitch inside him. Can feel how James suppresses a thrust into a small hitch. “James, please! Please, James. Don’t make me wait. Please!”

After another moment, James sighs and releases his unrelenting grip, slipping both hands around and down Q’s flat back, gun calluses rubbing just right against all that flushed skin. “Okay, Kitten. Shh-shh. Okay, darling. Here we go.” He takes the wings of Q’s hip bones into both hands so that he can’t slam them into the edges of the counters and begins to thrust, swift and purposeful, changing the angle bit by bit until it glances that spot inside. 

Q shouts; moans and tilts his hips just right so James can keep hitting that angle as he goes. Perfect. “Perfect. James, please, James. Oh, I’m close. So close.” The last ends in a whine as Bond pulls Q back on the latest thrust to meet him, skin clapping at the impact before Bond grinds and there!

Q comes in a flash of white behind his closed eyelids, fingers and ass spasming as he rides his release in a way that triggers James’ as well. They stay there and breathe for a moment before Q reaches for his glasses. 

His hands find something else - metallic but warm to the touch. He opens his eyes in surprise and makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Is this my beretta?”

James shifts more of his own weight back onto his own feet, slipping gently out of Q’s clenching heat. “I believe it’s considered my beretta,” He speaks evenly as he removes and disposes of his condom. 

Q ignores his quip and steamrolls on, “What is my beretta doing in your kitchen when it should be back in the equipment locker?” He turns around to lean against the counter, beretta in hand aimed in the air as he brings it closer to his face, the better to examine the scratched sides. “Any why does my beretta look like it’s been scraped down the roadside?” His eyes cut up in James’ direction in ire when James just chuckles. 

“I accidentally left it in my back holster. I put it down on the counter before my trousers slipped down my legs.”

“I hope you realize I don’t believe that for a moment. And that still doesn’t explain this damage.” Q glares. 

James retrieves Q’s glasses and gently slips them on Q’s face as he takes the gun back. “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”


	13. Alec : Bond x Q Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember the last chapter? If you don't, go back and read it.   
> 'Cuz, yeah, guess who maybe-not-so-accidentally walked into that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... Here's a single-chapter update in mid-December for that updated I promised to have out in November.... My bad.... 
> 
> I'm not happy with it but I haven't been happy with a lot lately so I'm hoping if I just throw it out in the universe I can get over it and keep going through the rest of the chapters. Here's to hoping.

The private elevator opens into the small entryway and the living room. Alec was half-way out of the thing before he noticed the lights in the diningroom and kitchen. Shadows and noises but the foyer wall blocks any view of the bodies he might see. He withdraws his Siger and puts his back to the wall, keeping his ears open. Bond should be with Q - that was what R had told him on the way out of Q branch when he’d intended to pick the kitten up himself. 

So who was in their apartment? And why did it sound like … 

An exhale mixed with a breathy little moan. “God, yes… This.” Q hisses and moans again. “I’ve missed this.” 

Well, Bond finally brought their little kitten home. Alec holsters his Siger quietly and keeps listening - just to confirm it isn’t a recording or something. 

Bond chuckles, “Me too, darling. Me too.” Alec has never heard him so satisfied… so… sated. Even when they had both been in the same bed with a third party between them. Is he saying it in Q’s neck, Alec thinks. Or as he thrust into Q further? Is Q bent over the counter? Did they both take the time to undress? He must see. Just a peek.

Alec steps quietly around the corner, hands visible but low, and isn’t surprised when Bond moves quickly - sighting his gun to Alec’s chest with his dominant arm while his non-dominant hand presses Q into the counter. Both Double-Ohs lock blue-eyes and freeze, studying each other.

Like this, Alec can see the interlocking men in profile. Q is spread out across the kitchen counter and Bond’s hips and arm pinning him with no leverage. He’s faced away and probably without his glasses. Alec should leave. His curiosity has been satisfied and he hasn’t discussed this with Q. He wouldn’t upset the boffin on purpose for the world - least of all because the younger man still threatens his credit rating.

Bond’s arm, isolated from the rest of his body, lifts and puts the gun silently back on safety. Alec presses his weight on his back foot- about to leave. 

Q whines and slaps a hand feebly at the counter top, rolling his forehead back and forth against granite countertop. Alec watches as Bond’s blue eyes, still focusing on Alec, blow wide with renewed lust. He can see Bond’s thighs and glutes clench when he suppresses a thrust. 

“James, please!” Q’s close to wailing. “Please, James. Don’t make me wait. Please!” Oh… oh, how can Alec keep his Kitten so unsatisfied. He and James share a fond look before Alec winks and backs up enough to take the corner. 

He just needs a minute to gather himself before he goes back into the elevator. It was recorded, after all, and the poor security attendants didn’t need to see his obviously hard cock. If he just strains his hearing a little... 

James sighs and there’s some shifting. “Okay, Kitten. Shh-shh. Okay, darling. Here we go.” 

Alec has to hold his breath to keep from a heavy exhale. Was he… was he saying that for Alec? Did he normally call Q Kitten as Alec did? Filthy squelching - James must haven’t skimped on the lube. And oh… Q shouts; moans. Good job. The moans don’t stop - the little uhh-uh noises that Q couldn’t help when his prostate was being hit spot- oh. Gods, Alec had missed those little noises. 

He has to… Alec presses his hand across his cock - the first real friction he’s had all night. Perfect. 

“Perfect!” Q yelps. “James, please, James. Oh, I’m close. So close.” The last ends in a whine. Some shifting. God, that sound, James must be close to ploughing him into the counter. 

“James!” Q shouts one last time and groans oh-so-pretty. Oh, there he goes. Such a good. . .   
“God, James. So good. Goood.” Q mumbles, fucked-out and gritty. Alec can’t help it. James can’t either. Alec could swear by the growled exhale James let loose that they come at the same time. 

Alec looks down at the wet tent in his slacks. Damn it. Looks like security is getting an eyeful anyways. He lets himself out.


End file.
